A sentence for life, time to serve as the dutiful husband and son; he was going to deny who he was and what he desired to be the man everyone expected. The stranglehold tied him to the life planned for him since the day he was born, and he was too fucking weak to break it. Sickened by the sight of him, I stood to leave.
"Where are you going?" he asked, not moving from the couch.
"The air in here is choking me." I started for the door but decided he needed a few words. "You are pathetic. Your wife found me here this morning; she knew about us. It was no surprise; in fact, the only shock was the confirmation. You are out. You're free. Someone knowing didn't kill you. Now, you tell me you're going to crawl back into that closet. Beg Kathleen to come back. If she does, she's a bigger fool than you."
He didn't look me in the eyes. A mumbled "Get out" slipped from his lips.
"All I wonder about is if Bert Carter was hired by you or Kathleen." I waited for his reaction.
No flinch or sign of recognition came from him.
"Did you hear me?" Walking toward him, I raised my voice to make sure he heard me clearly. "I was attacked again today, but this time he didn't get away. The asshole is in jail, and it's just a matter of time before he spills everything." I turned back to the door, then thought better of it. I sat down across from him. "Where's Kathleen?"
" Richmond. At her mother's," he added. He lifted his head to look at me. "You mean they caught the guy threatening you?"
"Bert Carter," I repeated, hating to say the name again, the memory of my face being forced into the vile, rotting leaves and dirt as he tried to rape me, his grunting as he struggled to unzip his pants. I wanted to go back to the police station and kill him. Slowly. Wrap a rope around his neck until he could barely breathe, take Ruby's Peter Beater and crack his ribs one at a time, take a razor and slice thin lines across his back, then bury him to his neck in the woods and let the flies, mosquitoes, worms, slugs, and rats finish him.
"Who?" Mark's tired voice brought me back to reality.
My sadistic thoughts scared me a little; hate was something I fought, something I denied, a sign of a lower consciousness, too primitive for an enlightened person. A deep breath settled my mind. "He confessed to the phone calls, the Observer building, and to tying up Ruby in the attic. All we're waiting on now is for him to tell who hired him."
"You think Kathleen?" Mark seemed to be coming out of his stupor, gaining his wits again.
"She knew about us; she wanted me out of here before I ended up in your bed." I watched his eyes dart back and forth as he processed the information. The devil of hate crept back into my mind as I started integrating the wild facts of the past two weeks.
"No, she wouldn't do that," he said. "Not Kathleen, she would never stoop to that."
I didn't think she would either, but I wanted him to squirm.
Mark sighed. "I have to admit, I didn't believe there was ever anyone after you."
I pushed myself out of the chair, then decided not to backhand his stupid mug, but went to the refrigerator for a beer instead. The curse of southern politeness prompted me to bring a beer for Mark, too. I did feel pity for him; my cousin, my lover, the one I had always looked up to was now no more than a weak, confused stranger. "You don't know Bert Carter, do you?"
"No," he shook his head, "and before you jump to another suspect, I'm sure Dad doesn't know him either."
I had a list of suspects, but Vernon wasn't one of them. Gladys wouldn't associate with someone like Bert Carter. Mark, although strong in business, had shown his complete inability to deal with anything personal, to understand emotions: his own or other people's. My thoughts scrambled within my mind, trying to match names with motives and opportunities. I decided to share my suspicions to get his reaction. "I've been thinking about who might have hired him, and the top contenders are Edwina and Roscoe."
"Those idiots?" Mark's shock brought his mind to full speed. "Why would they hire someone to attack you?"
" Vernon 's campaign," speaking my logic out loud, fitting it together as I spoke, "getting him out of the daily business of Harris Construction. If he goes to Washington, a seat opens on the Board, and they have a candidate for it."
"You mean Tim?"
"Right," I said. "The only thing that would stop their plan was Vernon 's defeat. I'm the only negative he has."
He sat forward and took a swig of his beer, thinking. "But you couldn't hurt his image."
"No, but they don't believe that." I sat my beer bottle on a Southern Living magazine and lit a cigarette. Thoughts kept churning in my brain, then what Emma called "a brilliant flash of the obvious" hit me. "They gave themselves away when they came by Sunday." My voice grew louder with excitement. "They knew Ruby had been left in the attic. They came to find her. Instead of going to church on Sunday morning as usual, they were at Ruby's."
"Just playing devil's advocate for a minute," Mark said, "maybe they had a good reason for not being in church. You can't go to the police with just that."
"Okay, but why would they stop by Ruby's," I stressed her name, "before noon on a Sunday?"
"You're right," he admitted.
We both knew Ruby Harris would only miss church if she physically couldn't make it. The hate-devil prompted me to find the two old farts and take my revenge, but I knew it would be much worse for them to be questioned and arrested by the police. The shame would hurt more than any physical pain. I fished Officer Blevins' card out of my wallet and dialed the phone.
I LEFT MARK to his self-loathing, and drove to the Observer building to see Daniel. The dark parking garage held no fear for me. The knowledge that the scratchy-voiced man paced behind a cell door allowed me to see the building in a new light, no more shadowy, lurking danger. Daniel met me in the lobby and escorted me up to his desk. Stacks of files, press releases, commission reports, and newspaper clippings overflowed his desk. He pushed a pile off his side chair so I could sit down.
"I think I know who hired him," I said without honoring Carter as a person with a name.
Daniel asked, "Who?" And I explained my theory about the campaign, the Board, the timing of the Sunday visit. Officer Blevins had thought the information was good enough to bring Edwina and Roscoe in for questioning. "Sounds like they paid him to scare you, and he got carried away."
"Honestly," I said, resting my feet on the corner of his desk, "I don't think they thought he would hurt anyone. Edwina and Roscoe are not very smart. I just think they found someone that turned out to be a little psycho."
"Are you really okay?"
I nodded.
"You want to have dinner with me tonight?" he asked. "I'm not pushing you. I just want to make up for keeping those notes."
I kept a straight face, not letting him read my emotion. His dark brown eyes scanned my expression, until I couldn't help but break into a grin. "If you weren't so damned handsome, I'd never give you another chance." I gave his knee a playful knock with my foot, ignoring the soreness my body used to remind me of Carter's attack and all I had been through. I asked, "Do you still have that file?"
"In my briefcase." He picked up a black leather case, pulled out and handed the file to me.
As he worked and made phone calls, I read the file. He didn't have much I didn't know about the family, until I came across some of his handwritten notes. Daniel had information about Valerie and Tim from when they were teenagers and Daniel, his brothers, and sister had attended the same schools. His brother, David, had been a year behind Valerie and a year ahead of Tim during school; Emily, his sister, was two years younger than Tim. Daniel had interviewed his own brother and sister about my brother and sister. I scanned the pages on how Tim was the class clown, but good in sports. Apparently, Emily had dated him for a couple of weeks until she didn't put out, and he dumped her. Valerie had been studious and popular, plus a cheerleader, which, in the South, automatically made her the favorite for Homecoming Queen and Prom Queen. The one odd note was that Valerie had left school in October of her sophomore year and then returned the next September to start her junior year. Daniel had written the rumor: abortion.